


Each Peach (And Two's A Pair)

by Wintress



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homelessness, Honestly how the fuck do you tag this kind of thing i'm so out of my depth man, I just have a lot of feelings okay, Mental Health Issues, Mention of suicide attempts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rating May Change, Recovery, Touch-Starved, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintress/pseuds/Wintress
Summary: "You smell like fairy taint.""Do fairies even have taints?""Makes sense if they have buttholes.""How do you know they have buttholes?!""Because they shit into boxes and your store sells them as bath bombs, that's how."*Life hasn't been the same since your best friend moved out. You're taking every temp job and extra shift under the sun just to afford to survive, you can't remember the last time you really lived.Until one day, a chance encounter with a homeless man changes both of your lives forever... for better, or worse.(AKA The tooth-rotting not-Lush AU no one asked for)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Each Peach (And Two's A Pair)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, everyone's struggling right now. If you can't write the cathartic soft fic of your dreams and pop your self-insert cherry at the same time during the apocalypse, then when can you?
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Mentions for suicide attempt  
> \- Homelessness
> 
> If you ever have any questions about the tags or if you wish me to update any warnings please do let me know - we're all a little more vulnerable than usual right now, and I don't want to unintentionally upset anyone. Enjoy your Sunday :)

“You smell like fairy taint.”

Marianne’s comment was so out of the blue you almost snorted iced tea through your nose. Half-spluttering, half-laughing, you wiped your mouth on your apron and groaned when you realised you’d probably just smeared glitter over your face.

“What - is that how we’re greeting eachother now?”

“It is when you roll up in a cloud of pixie dust,” Marianne smirked. “Seriously though, how do all those perfumes and shit not give you a headache?” 

“I dunno, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. It’s a ‘Bombs Away’ thing, I don’t even smell it any more.” You’d only been working there for a month after desperately applying for all the temporary holiday positions you could find across New York, and it’s true you’d gotten used to the eye-watering assault on the senses that the cosmetics chain was famous for. Marianne had told you about their holiday positions one night over Skype as she worked in the bougie baby boutique across the road from it, and you’d sent your application before the call was over. You’d have taken any job available since the deli cut your hours, desperate to keep a roof over your head since Marianne had moved in with her girlfriend. Once a week or so both your shifts coincided and you could share a short lunch break together on the park benches a block away; it was the most you’d seen her since she moved out, and you missed her silliness and, if you were being honest with yourself, having some company other than the bloated goldfish she’d left behind called Walter. “Wait… Do fairies even have taints?”

“Makes sense if they have buttholes.”

“How do you know they’ve got buttholes?”

“Because they shit into bathbomb boxes and your store sells it, that’s how.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed in mock disgust at you before taking her coffee. “There better not be any glitter in my latte, I swear to god.”

You laughed a little, bumped her shoulder with yours as you sat beside her. “Just a little something to remember me by. And it’ll multiply like hair grips and before you know it you and Dawn will be drowning in glitter.”

“God, I hope not. She’d love it too.” Marianne at least had the decency to let you sip at your tea before starting her interrogation. “So have you found a roommate yet?”

“Ugh, no. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea to keep looking so close to Christmas. I could end up with one of those serial killers who pretend to be Santa.” You joked, but her brows furrowed.

“You can’t afford the apartment on your own, girl. Are they paying you enough at Bombs Away to cover my share?”

“I mean… Kind of?” You shrugged, when really you meant ‘hahaha absolutely fucking not’. “Plus, I’m actually saving on the bills by being home less, and I actually stick to the meal plan we put up on the board a few years ago.”

“Ew, you mean you’ve actually been cooking for yourself?” She balked. 

“What’s wrong with that?!”

“The last time you offered to make lunch you ruined two pots with burned cheese and cucumber. Who the fuck puts cucumber in mac and cheese and how the fuck did you manage to melt something that’s ninety-five percent water?” You both laughed at the memory of you running into Marianne’s room shrieking about fire, plumes of black smoke following in your wake and filling the tiny apartment. 

“At least it gave us a kick up the ass to redecorate,” You smiled. You tried not to think about all the fun times you’d had with her over the years you’d lived with her since moving to New York. It just made the silence even louder when you got home to an empty apartment. But you didn’t want to make her feel any more guilty than she already was; despite Marianne’s stand-offish demeanour and her utter distate for anything involving softness and affection, you knew she was head over heels for Dawn and that they deserved to have happiness. Even if it meant you third-wheeling it every so often while you refused to acknowledge the graveyard that was your current love life situation.

Marianne didn’t miss a trick, including your feeble attempts into steering the conversation back to safer ground. “Look, if you’re not managing I can always move back in - Dawn will understand, she was in the same position a few -”

“No, you can’t do that! You guys have just gotten settled, and you’re all lovey dovey and shit. I’m not bursting your bubble. And it means I don’t have to wear headphones whenever you decide to go down on her in the middle of The Bachelor commercials.” You grinned. She gave you a flat look, and you deflated. “Mar, it’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine, you’re drowning here!” She snapped. Footsteps from behind you shut you both up for a second, and a man passed by. He didn’t look interested in listening to two young women bickering on a park bench though, shoulders bunched up around his ears and hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he hurried past. As soon as he was out of earshot Marianne shook her head and gripped your hand, forcing you to give her your full attention and listen. “I know you think you’re trying to make things easier for me by pretending everything’s okay, but you’re only gonna make everything harder for yourself in the long run. I can come back, love. I don’t like the idea of you just sitting around alone.”

What she means is ‘I don’t want you to spiral without me there to step in again’. After a particularly bad bout of depression the year before you’d withdrawn, and Marianne had been so busy with work and with her budding relationship with Dawn that she’d believed you when you’d promised you were fine. She had no idea until she’d found you puking your guts up on the living room floor after downing your bottle of pills, and you’d never forgive yourself for as long as you lived for putting her through that. She’d been over protective ever since, doubling down on her self-appointed role as sister from another mister. You didn’t want to hold her back or worry her more; sometimes that meant little white lies, and maybe Marianne was right, maybe you had been struggling and making things more difficult to handle alone, but you’d be damned if you were going to make her miss out on a chance at happiness. Even if it was at your expense.

“I promise you right now, I’ll never let it get as bad as it was before.” You said slowly. The suicide attempt was still hard to talk about no matter how open you were about mental health. “And I know that I’ve got you to confide in and step in. I won’t shut you out Mar, trust me on that.”

She held your gaze for a short moment, as though she was scanning for any sign or tics that would make her doubt your words. Satisfied, she let you sqeeze her hand before gently taking it back and gripping her cup once more. “You’d better. And you’d better be taking care of yourself.”

“I am, really. And if it makes you feel any better, if the bills get to be too much to manage alone I’ll start looking for a roommate. I’ll even let you vet them.”

“Gotta keep out the crazies,” She agreed. “You could end up like me and get landed with some clueless nerd fresh from college and boom - before you know it, she’s your best friend.”

“Can’t be having that now, can we?”

“Nope. Especially if they’re as bad at cooking as you. Gotta make sure they know how to work a microwave at least.”

“Hey, it only took me a few weeks to learn!” You laughed, secretly glad for the subject change. “Besides, I’ve been watching more cooking shows online and following student recipes, I make my own lunch and everything like a big girl.”

“Oooh, you wipe your own ass now too?”

“Fuck off!” 

You both shared a laugh and she stood to finish her coffee with a grimace. "I gotta get back, they get pissy if I take too long on my break. Catch up on Tuesday?"

"Sure thing Mar. See you then!" You said brightly, waving her off. She waved back, tossing her cup in the garbage and pulling her hood up to fight off the sudden gust of freezing November wind. You still had ten minutes left on lunch, though you considered heading back in while the weak sun still hung above the New York skyline; it'd be dark soon, and it was only getting colder. Just as you heaved yourself off the bench you realised Marianne had left behind her uneaten ham bagel. 

"Great." You muttered to yourself. Not only had you worried her, you'd made her spend her forget to even eat her lunch. You picked it up and left the park, ready to toss it in the can when you spotted a figure bundled at the corner of Marianne's shop: the passer-by from earlier. Your heart hurt a little as you watched him curl up tighter against the wall, trying to duck the harsh wind and avoid eye contact from pedestrians. You hadn't realised he was homeless, and you felt even more guilty when you realised how abruptly you and Mar had stopped talking when he'd passed. Poor guy must have thought you were judging him, and he probably got enough dirty looks and nasty comments to think you were no different.

Resolved, you crossed the street when the lights changed and crouched beside him.

"Excuse me?" You asked and he tensed immediately, his gloved hands curling into fists as he clutched his jacket tighter around him. You felt a pang of empathy when you wondered what kind of awful experiences this guy must have had for his first reaction to try to hide. He didn't look up, so you softened your voice and kept your distance. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my friend didn't want her lunch. Would you like it?"

He didn't answer. Fuck, you thought to yourself, he probably had plenty of people treating him like a charity case - maybe he thought you were being patronising or pitying? What if you insulted him? Scrambling to try to save the situation and conscious of the countdown before you were due back on the shop floor, you ended up doing what you did best: word vomiting. "Sorry! Sorry, it's just that I don't like bagels otherwise I would have eaten it and I didn't want it to go to waste, it's still good though! It's from the deli I work at part-time and it's pretty popular so I know it's not gross or has weird fillings, it's just ham and cheese but if you don't want it don't feel obligated to -"

The man looked up, and you stopped short. Almost hidden behind greasy locks of dark hair were a pair of the most arresting eyes you'd ever seen, such a pale blue they could be grey. His gaunt face twisted into a bemused expression, though he didn't meet your gaze until he spoke one word. 

"Why?" His voice was rough, honey over gravel. He kept his knees tucked up and his arms folded over them, and the lines of his body were still taut llike he was ready to bolt at any moment. 

Say something, you idiot. You're just staring at him! You couldn't shut up a second ago! "Uh...it's lunchtime, and I thought you might like it?" He held your gaze, and you swallowed uncomfortably, fully aware you were bothering the poor guy. "Besides, I feel like it makes up for earlier."

"Earlier." He said, drawing a blank. Oh. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Maybe it was your mind creating imaginary disaster scenarios again. Not everyone is out to get you, not everyone is inconvenienced by you, even if that's hard to remember sometimes when it's all your brain tells you. Couldn't hurt to clarify, right?

"Yeah... in the park?I didn't mean to seem rude - my friend and I weren't talking about you, I know it might have seemed that way but she's kind of suspicious of people especially men, and we were talking about some pretty sensitive stuff and -"

"Okay."He said simply.

"Okay?" You said, stumped. Fucking brain, you thought. If it was a person you'd punch it. As per usual you'd made something out of nothing and not only humiliated yourself but some unsuspecting homeless guy who was trying to go about his day. 

Deciding you'd made enough of a fool of yourself for one day, you passed him the bagel and stood. He squinted at the cardboard container and then you as your brushed street grit off your knees and apron, unfortunately sending a little shower of glitter onto his knees and dirty boots too. You groaned and felt your face heat up.

"God I'm sorry - I -" You started to bend to sweep the shiny glitter off his knees and froze - what the fuck were you doing?! Why did you always have to act so awkward and weird? You can't just touch people you don't know, not when you've just barged into their personal space and made them feel uncomfortable already. Battling indecision between helping and explaining yourself, you stuttered and stood again, walking backwards in stilted steps as you tried to save an unsaveable blunder. 

"I - I shouldn't have - you know what, enjoy your bagel. Bye. Sorry." You turned and almost slipped off the kerb side, managing to save yourself a sprained ankle at last second with a child-like squeal. Shame the same couldn't be said about your dignity. Face burning, you looked back to see the man staring, the bagel still awkwardly perched on his knee where you'd placed it. 

You were never going to let yourself live this down. 

"Bye." You jaywalked, running across the road and squeezing through the throngs of shoppers cooing at the soap display shaped like a turkey in the window of Bombs Away. After you made it into the staff room, you locked yourself in the toilet, sat down, paused, then buried your face in your hands and tried to count to ten.

Your hasty exit meant you didn't get to see the man shake his head, place the bagel to the side carefully, then hunker down once more; only this time, he had the ghost of a smile across his lips.


End file.
